


I See Your Soul, You Wear it on Your Face

by PandorasMusicalBox



Series: I've Fallen to My Knees [1]
Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: Barebacking, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 20:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6300121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandorasMusicalBox/pseuds/PandorasMusicalBox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ajay pulls the trigger. His eyes follow Sabal’s head as it slumps back on the desk. The smell of blood fills the air. The younger man's stomach flops, and he throws the pistol on the ground. Blood seeps from Sabal’s head. It stains the desk, dripping onto the wooden floor. </p><p>Ajay shakes his head. Sabal is looking back at him and Ajay still has the gun in his hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I See Your Soul, You Wear it on Your Face

**Author's Note:**

> This ship is dead and so am I.
> 
> Needed a little broken Ajay right before finals.
> 
> Title is from Evil Eye by Franz Ferdinand
> 
> Unbeta-d

Amita had told him to kill Sabal. Ajay Ghale always followed orders, especially now that Amita led the Golden Path. He left a trail of blood behind him. The only question was if it was the Royal Army’s, or Sabal’s men’s.

Sabal never thought the son of his idol would grow up to point a pistol at him. 

“Did she send you, brother? Did you volunteer?” The mere suggestion tugs at Ajay’s heart, that he would readily betray the man who saved him from Pagan Min, an avalanche, and Amita’s wrath. 

“What do you think you are doing?” Sabal continues. “You shit on everything your father built. Congratulations.” He sneers at him and sits upon a small chest. 

Ajay swallows, drops of sweat rolling down his back. 

“Everything that meant something is irrelevant, thanks to you.”

He thinks back to Amita. Her overlooking the cliff and telling him the final order. 

“And that's what's truly sad, brother, you handed everything to Amita…

“To Amita! You think she can fix Kyrat? How? Drug fields as far as the eye can see?” Sabal’s words come out choked.

“Suicide nets in factory towns where men, women, and children are free to be poor? It's a land of equal opportunity where everyone's a slave.” His green eyes shine and his brows upturn and Ajay thinks Sabal might cry. The older man drops his head. His frame shakes for a second, then he looks back at Ajay.

“Do you think this is the country your mother wanted her ashes to be scattered in?”

Sabal watches Ajay flinch, a flicker of sadness on his face before it's replaced by weak determination. Green eyes narrow at him. 

“So what's it going to be, brother?”

Ajay pulls the pistol up and aims it with both hands. The safety clicks off, his index finger resting on the trigger. He's killed hundreds, he rationalizes, without a single thought. Why is Sabal different? The older man's green eyes watch the way the pistol shakes in Ajay’s grip. Sabal licks his lips.

Ajay pulls the trigger. His eyes follow Sabal’s head as it slumps back on the desk. The smell of blood fills the air. The younger man's stomach flops, and he throws the pistol on the ground. Blood seeps from Sabal’s head. It stains the desk, dripping onto the wooden floor. 

Ajay shakes his head. Sabal is looking back at him and Ajay still has the gun in his hands. “Brother?” he asks. 

“No, I don't want to kill you, Sabal,” Ajay whispers. His grip on the gun stays tight and he closes his eyes.

The sound of fabric rustling opens his eyes. Sabal is walking towards him, and Ajay’s heart beats loud in his ears.The older man’s right hand snakes behind Ajay's head and tugs at the black hair. Ajay thinks it's over, Sabal is going to take the gun from him and shoot him with it, and he shakes even harder. Sabal’s eyes soften before he pulls the pistol out of Ajay’s grip. He clicks the safety on. 

Ajay hears the clatter of metal on wood. He can't leave Sabal’s eyes, a deer frozen in headlights. The older man smiles. Ajay's head is pushed forward and when he feels Sabal’s mouth on his, he nearly melts. 

The kiss is soft and sweet and Sabal nips at his bottom lip before running his tongue over Ajay's closed mouth. Ajay feels a hand rub over his clothed chest, sliding down over his navel and over onto his back. The hand falls further and further down until it rests on Ajay’s arse. Ajay can't help the moan that escapes him. His mouth opens and Sabal’s tongue explores it, pushing his jaw further open. He feels Sabal lick at his molars before returning to his tongue. Ajay’s hips surge forward, feeling his pants grow tighter. The hand on his ass squeezes, and all he can taste and smell and feel is Sabal. Sabal’s tongue in his mouth, Sabal’s hands grasping the back of his head and his arse, Sabal’s clothed erection pressing against his thigh.

Sabal is the first to pull back, gasping in Ajay’s face. “Ajay.” He nearly purrs the name, mouth ghosting over the younger man’s jaw. His lips purse against his pulse point.

“Fa, fuck, Sabal, I-”

Teeth clamp down on Ajay’s neck and he nearly cries out. The stinging is immediately soothed by Sabal’s tongue, his saliva coating the hot neck.

“You’re mine, Ajay, mine.” Sabal grinds his hips into him, both hands grasping his arse. Ajay searches for purchase on Sabal, through his soft hair, over his clothed chest, on his thick arms. 

“Ffffuck!” Ajay’s head rolls back and there are teeth on the other side of his neck. “Please, oh God, Sabal!”

“Yes, brother?” Sabal murmurs against the skin of his throat, nose pushing into the crook of his neck and Ajay hears the older man inhale deeply.

“Fuck me, Sabal!”

His hips stop moving and Ajay freezes. Fear shoots through his veins and Ajay can't help but think he fucked it up, he messed everything up, and the one he loves will cast him away. Sabal never needed him, the older man was too great for that. A failed murder attempt - who would forgive that? He never had the guts to pull the trigger. Ajay would never be able to face Sabal again or he just might pull the trigger on himself.

“Strip.” Sabal growls into his ear, licking into the shell of his ear. He doesn't let go and Ajay shudders. “Bed.”

When Sabal releases him, Ajay nearly falls. He hurriedly pulls his coat off, peeling each layer off with shaking hands. To his right is Sabal, dropping his jacket on the floor and searching in the drawers of the desk. The younger man undoes his belt and lets his pants fall off of him, leaving him with only his underwear.

“Oh, and Ajay?” Sabal is looking at him, bottle of oil on the desk and his hand pulling lazily at his exposed member. “Don’t forget the gloves.” Sabal watches him, watches him pull each finger off until Ajay looks back up. He fights to not stare at Sabal’s cock but thinks about it pressing against his ass and Ajay’s knees nearly buckle.

The older man guides him to the bed and softly pushes him into the mattress. Ajay lands on his stomach, so he pulls his knees up and apart, his hips shaking in the cold Kyrati air. Sabal chuckles. He pulls Ajay’s underwear down and past his knees and suddenly the underwear does not exist, only the man behind him and his hands that grip his fleshy arse.

A harsh smack scares Ajay. His right arse cheek stings sharply, beating in time with the dull thud of his heart.

Sabal rubs where his palm hit with one hand while the other traces the crack of Ajay’s ass. A single digit rubs around the younger man’s puckered hole. The older man pauses.

Ajay glances behind him; Sabal is kneeling, leaning towards his ass with his tongue out. Their eyes meet and Sabal holds his gaze as he licks a stripe on the arse in front of him. The younger man’s eyes roll into his head, a shudder running through him. His burning hot body isn't cooled by Sabal swirling his tongue around. His movements only add to the heat and Ajay pushes his face into the mattress, sighing deeply.

A single finger pushes around with Sabal’s tongue and Ajay just groans, his hips needily pushing back. “Eager, brother?” Sabal’s breath is too hot against him and Ajay whines. 

Suddenly the finger pushes in. Past the first knuckle, second, third, until the entire finger is wriggling inside of him. Sabal kisses the strained muscle stretched around his finger. Ajay shivers when oil is poured over Sabal’s hand, dripping down until it slides over Ajay’s balls and drips onto the bed. The finger inside him pulls out slowly and similarly pushes back in.

“Ah….f-fuck me….please, Sabal.” Ajay almost drools against the mattress. The heat of Sabal licking him and lazily pushing his finger in and out ran up to his head and was twisting around in his brain, just like Sabal’s finger.

The older man doesn’t respond. Instead, he presses a kiss against the meat of Ajay’s arse and slides another finger in. 

The man on the mattress gasps when the two fingers scissor inside of him. The pain is heavily outweighed by the pleasure, and Ajay pushes his hips back. The number of fingers in his ass increases to three, which curl inside of him. They brush against his prostrate and Ajay screams, in both frustration and pleasure. Sabal aims his fingers towards that spot and thrusts even harder. His other hand grips Ajay’s hips.

“Sabal, get your cock inside me before I come or I'll actually kill you.”

The man behind him chuckles. The fingers inside him disappear and Ajay whines at the lack of sensation. Sabal’s leaky member pushes against his puckered hole.

He slides in to hilt and it takes all of Ajay’s control to not scream, his eyes screwing shut and hands twisting in the sheets. “Okay?” Sabal asks him, his hand rubbing over his back while the other grips his hips. Ajay almost snaps back, but he bites his lower lip. 

“Yeah.”

Sabal pulls his hips back and snaps forward, shallowly fucking Ajay. He groans at the feeling of Sabal’s thick member pushing inside of him. The muscles in his arse spasm and suddenly there is a hand wrapped tightly against the base of his cock. “You don't come until I do.” Sabal accentuates each word with a harsh thrust that sends Ajay’s head spinning and his eyes seeing stars. 

Ajay only hears the slick noises of Sabal pounding into him; he buries his face into the mattress again, panting. Sabal arches his thrusts and hits against Ajay’s prostate again and again and again until Ajay is begging and shaking.

“Please, Sabal, oh please please please-”

Sabal hooks his fingers into Ajay’s mouth. He sucks at the digits haphazardly, drool dripping onto the bed. 

“F-fuck.” Sabal’s hips stutter and Ajay feels his warm seed coat inside of his ass and the sensation is just enough to push him over the edge until his screams become hoarse.

Sabal pulls out and leaves him there. The younger man slumps over, holding himself, in a fetal position. Ajay blindly sees the older man get dressed from the corner of his eye. A small pat on the arse and Sabal is out of the tiny room, out into the vastness of Kyrat where Kyra knows Ajay won't find him.

He whimpers as he feels Sabal’s still warm seed dribble out of him.

“Ajay? Ajay! Come in, please!” He hears Amita’s voice come to life through the static of his radio. He hobbles over to it, trying not to splash Sabal’s remnants over all his clothes, and clicks a button on the small radio.

“Amita, it's done. Sabal is dead.”


End file.
